


The Cuckoldry Conundrum Solved

by Lines_of_Pain_and_Glory



Category: The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: Cuckolding, F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-13 04:43:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2137410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lines_of_Pain_and_Glory/pseuds/Lines_of_Pain_and_Glory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How I wish “The Alien Parasite Hypothesis” had ended.</p><p>This was supposed to be a one-shot, now it looks like it's going to be a three-shot: post "The Alien Parasite Hypothesis," post "The Pulled Groin Extrapolation," and post "The Flaming Spittoon Acquisition."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Cuckoldry Conundrum

“I have a terrible confession to make.” Sheldon pauses, looking at Amy anxiously as though expecting some response.

“Well, then I suggest you make it, since you’re only prolonging both our discomfort by failing to do so.” Maybe she does simply have the flu. She’s feeling quite nauseous although not in an entirely unpleasant way. What would Penny call it? Butterflies, what a charmingly absurd colloquialism, to have butterflies in one’s stomach.

“Of course.” He looks appropriately chastened. “Amy, I brought you and Zack together tonight under false pretenses.” He seems to be waiting for her acknowledgment again.

She clears her throat, trying to appear composed. “I see and what was your true motivation?” It would have been unusual for Sheldon to do something simply to be “nice,” particularly when he disapproved of the activity in question. 

“All physiological evidence suggests that I may have a…” the last word is mumbled so quickly and quietly that she’s quite sure she must have misheard.

“What?”

Sheldon’s voice regains that confidence with which he relays factual information. “A fetish? In an this context, fetishism refers to arousal derived from atypical classes of physical objects or situations--” 

“I’m aware of the phenomenon of paraphilias, Sheldon.” She says irritably. It’s rude to interrupt, but it was equally rude of him to assume she’s an idiot, rather than merely incredulous at such an out of character disclosure.

“Oh.” His expression is becoming increasingly distressed again. 

“Cuckoldry is actually a common variant of masochism. There may be some evolutionary basis for males to be motivated to engage in coitus in response to a mate’s perceived infidelity in order to compete with the interloper’s sperm.” She offers, hoping he might find that comforting.

“We are not engaging in coitus!” He presses himself against the arm of the couch, trying to get as far away from her as possible. 

She sighs in exasperation. “Given that we are both experiencing arousal, it seems irrational to do nothing about it. Unresolved sexual tension can lead to a variety of undesirable side effects including sleeplessness, difficulty concentrating, and pain due to protracted vasocongestion.”

He makes that face he makes when she talks about “icky squishy things.” “That does also sound unappealing.”

“Sheldon, do you masturbate?” Some asexual individuals do. She’s wanted to ask before, but she’s observed that to be among the practices men seem to deny in front of women despite engaging in them.

“Of course, it prevents the inconvenience of nocturnal emissions.”

She smiles. That’s the Sheldon who releases a flood of dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin in her brain: dispassionate and sensible. “Would it bother you if we did so in each other’s presence?”

He considers this. “What level of nudity would be involved?”

“No more than physically necessary for manual access to the erogenous zones.”

“That would be acceptable.” The rapidity with which he unzips his pants suggests it might be more than acceptable. “Could I trouble you for some form of lubricant?”

“I believe I have some Neutrogena which would be suitable.” She gets up to retrieve it. She’ll tell him the Rogaine anecdote some other time. She’s not sure if he would find it amusing under the circumstances.

“Thank you.”

“You may keep the bottle.” She’s more than sufficiently lubricated. She settles back down on the other end of the couch, undoing a few buttons so that she can reach inside her blouse to stimulate her nipples.

“I’m glad I decided not to have intercourse with Zack.” Somehow, she can’t picture it proceeding in this polite, orderly, reasonable fashion.

He makes a little whimpering sound. “I’m glad too.” To her surprise, when she glances over, he’s actually watching her. She spreads her legs more lewdly, slipping her other hand up under her skirt.

Sometimes, fantasies are nothing more than that.


	2. The What Fools These Mortals Be Consequence

They exit the opposite apartment doors at the same moment on a trajectory to slam right into each other.

Amy stops short, but Leonard keeps advancing on her.

“Oh, good, you’re still here, Amy,” he clutches her shoulders, shaking her slightly, “please, you’ve got to go talk to him. I think Sheldon’s finally lost it!”

She frowns at him. “Lost what?”

“His mind!” Leonard looks like the one who has taken leave of his higher order faculties, his eyes wild.

“He tried to kiss you, didn’t he?” She should have foreseen this as a potential outcome. This evening has turned into “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” by far Shakespeare’s least enjoyable comedy.

Leonard’s mouth falls open in shock then he throws up his hand helplessly. “I don’t know! He claimed it was biological warfare.”

“There’s no reason to be alarmed, Leonard. I apologize for involving you in this experiment without your consent, but I can assure you that’s all this evening has been: a harmless experiment I’m conducting on the neurological anomaly that is Sheldon Cooper.”

“Oh.” His expression morphs from relieved to puzzled to suspicious rapidly, but she manages to make it across the hall and get the door closed and locked behind her just in time.

“Amy!”

Banging on the door.

“Amy!”

Continued assault upon said door.

“Crap! Now, he’s got me doing it. Amy!”

Sheldon isn’t to be found in any of his customary locations in the common area of the apartment, so she proceeds to his bedroom, ignoring Leonard, and opens the door without knocking.

He has his back to her, curled up on the bed. “I’m not speaking to you.”

“Sheldon, it’s me.” She sits down next to him.

“Well, I’m not speaking to you either…you chicken dancing hussy.” His voice is thick with that Texan accent that always pervades his speech when he’s emotional. “I know what you were trying to do.”

“Was I successful?” She stretches out on her side on the bed propping her head up on her elbow.

He glares peevishly over his shoulder at her. “Yes.”

“Would you rather I left you alone to sort things out with Dr. Hofstadter?” She asks quietly. She wants him to be happy even if it’s not…no, that’s not a factual statement. She wants him to be happy with her even if she has to slice out a few parts of his brain to…no, that isn’t a factual statement either. Without that brain, without his quirks, he wouldn’t be Sheldon anymore and she wouldn’t care. Leonard could have him.

He huffs derisively. “It’s bad enough that I’m forced to endure your incessant nymphomania. Now you expect me to suffer through Leonard’s repressed homosexuality and ensuing identity crisis as well? No thank you.”

Incessant? Once. She tried to bring up “the incident” as he insists upon referring to it once. She’d hoped things might change. They did. He wouldn’t speak to her for three days and she cried herself to sleep at night instead of drifting off fondly remembering those long fingers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“…159…”

“Why are you reciting the decimals of pi?” She’s trying to concentrate.

“Social convention dictates…265…that it is polite…358…to allow one’s partner…979…to achieve orgasm first…323…”

“Hoo!” She bites down on her knuckles to preempt more embarrassing vocalizations, the gratifying contractions beginning suddenly and violently. She’d never anticipated he might be more considerate as a lover than he was in other areas.

“Oh, splendid.” His fingers become a blur, his eyes squeezed shut, his other hand groping blindly, finding the wad of tissues just in time. 

“Well, that was…”

“Enjoyable?” She suggests hopefully.

“Efficient. It usually takes me much longer to achieve climax. Maybe there is something to the concept of audio-visual stimulation as an accompaniment to masturbation.” He muses.

“Get out.”

“I can’t. I need to use your shower.”

“Get out.”

“Stop touching me! I know where those have been…” He shudders.

“Out!”

She slumps down, leaning against the door after she slams it behind him. This was a disaster. How is she supposed to compete with pornography if he has no interest in physical contact with her? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is all Sheldon’s fault for refusing to discuss matters like a reasonable adult. He left her with no choice but to resort to a juvenile ludic ploy for his attentions.

She ruled out Dr. Koothrappali and Mr. Wolowitz almost immediately. She doubted the former would be up to the level of reciprocal interaction required to make Sheldon jealous and the latter was pair bonded with Bernadette, not to mention, to put it succinctly, creepy.

She seriously considered Penny, not because her hair is soft and she smells like sunshine and she gets very touchy-feely when she’s sufficiently inebriated, but because she’s generally the most supportive of Amy’s relationship with Sheldon. She could have simply told Penny the truth about what she was attempting to accomplish and expected enthusiastic, if a bit overacted, assistance, but the tiny Sheldon voice that now resides in her psyche scoffed that Penny didn’t make any sense at all, “She isn’t even capable of producing sperm!”

It was Leonard by default. He’s still tiresome. It’s unclear to her what Sheldon finds so tolerable about his company. She saw her opening as soon as Priya was out of the picture and she took it. 

“I’m sorry.” She doesn’t mean it, but Sheldon is unlikely to take note of that, so it’s the far more expedient option compared to arguing with him.

“Not as sorry as you’re going to be. Fix it.” He demands, rolling onto his back and gesturing at the source of his apparent distress.

She raises an eyebrow dubiously. “You want me to…?”

“Obliviously. This isn’t the second or fourth Thursday of the month. My hands are tied.”

“Hmm, maybe you should consider asking for my assistance more courteously then…”

“Keep smirking as though you think you’ve outwitted me and I will no longer be requiring any—oh, dear Lord!” He seizes two fistfuls of bedding in a death grip as she squeezes him through his pants.

She highly doubts coitus with anyone else would prove as enjoyable as rendering Sheldon speechless, twitching and whimpering, utterly at her mercy.

“Just nod when you’re ready to admit I have outwitted you.” She teases around the corona where he seems to be especially sensitive.

He shakes his head violently, biting down on his lip with sufficient force to cause her concern that he might actually injure himself. Perhaps she needs to aim a bit lower, particularly since she wants to avoid developing carpal tunnel syndrome this evening if at all possible.

“Oh, very well. Nod…if you’re willing to admit you find this pleasurable.”

He does so equally frantically, his hips arching off the bed. She closes her fist more snugly, allowing him to thrust into her grasp and he climaxes without further warning, ejaculate splattering everywhere.

“Drat, I liked this shirt. Now I’m going to have to burn it.” Even so, he sounds unusually calm given the circumstances.

“I suppose you would consider reciprocation an unreasonable request.” She says acerbically, as he shoos her off the bed.

“Oh, not at all,” he looks as diabolical as one can look with an armful of soiled laundry, “I fully intend to discover your erotic foibles and exploit them for my personal gain.” 

She trails after him into the living room waiting for the “Bazinga.”

Leonard appears to have just now finished procuring the spare key from Penny.

They all stare at each other from opposite sides of the room.

“It’s not what it looks like.” Sheldon deadpans.

Leonard rolls his eyes, heading for the kitchen. “Nope, sorry, Buddy. You still haven’t figured out how to use that one correctly.” 

The smug smile Sheldon gives her behind Leonard’s back indicates that he’s quite sure he has.


	3. The Normative Relationship Paradigm Kink

“Feel free to retain a lawyer…but I think you’ll find Section Seven to be much too pertinent to your current interests to warrant the delay.”

She flips the page and reads carefully. “Well played.”

“Go out with Stuart. I dare you.” He’d said.

“I accept your challenge.” She’d replied. She hadn’t thought he’d left himself much room to escalate.

Never give Sheldon a project. She needs to have that particular pearl of wisdom added to her medical alert bracelet or possibly just tattooed in a prominent location.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You arranged this!” This is the sort of situation where she would normally hit him with her purse, but he has, oh so conveniently, removed that option.

“Subject appears agitated, but fails to exhibit characteristic vocalizations and-Ouch! Now that was uncalled for.”

“And having us robbed at gunpoint was what?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Were I to orchestrate such a scenario, I would obviously arrange to have only you robbed at gunpoint. I would arrive on the scene moments later to heroically foil the mugger with my superior understanding of Newtonian physics, but when life gives you lemons…”

She folds her arms across her chest. “You mean you’d trip him as he tried to get away,” instead of hiding behind her like a…that comparison would be insulting to little girls. On second thought, perhaps she does buy his story, or maybe that was what he wanted her to think... 

He frowns. “You make it sound much less heroic.”

She just continues glaring at him.

“I’m just going to put you down as a ‘no’ for chremastistophilia.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He carefully applies the last stamp, smiling triumphantly. “I own you now.”

“This does not say that.” She read the fine print repeatedly.

“No, but this does.” He tilts her chin up and kisses her gently, closed lipped as prescribed in Section Six. 

“Hoo!” Damn him! She is like putty in his hands.

“I must admit you were quite a puzzle, quite the little conundrum. A lesser mind might have been stymied, but I have managed to isolate your kink, for lack of a more precise term: vanilla.” He pronounces with the air of a man proving the Hodge conjecture.

She stares at him.

“Not the flavoring agent, but the normative cultural relationship paradigm.” He feels the need to elaborate.

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, woe, you have at last discovered my own terrible secret: I’m normal.”

“No, you are merely besotted with the appearance of such. In actuality, you, Amy Farrah Fowler, are the most extraordinary person, excluding myself of course, I have ever known.”

The compliment is more than sufficient to reduce her to a mess of cliché metaphors, stomach butterflies and melted hearts.

“If you would like, you may invoke Section Seven now.”

She swallows hard. “I would.”

“Very well,” he reluctantly snaps on latex gloves, “I suppose it’s better to just get this over with.”

“You do realize viewing intimacy as an unpleasant obligation is traditionally associated with the female role in a relationship?” She sighs, feeling equally resigned. 

He pauses thoughtfully. “I’m not opposed to that. Would you like me redraw up our contract specifying a reversal of gender roles?”

“Stop stalling, Sheldon.”

Relationships are, by definition, about compromise. She doesn't intend to let the perfect become the enemy of the good here.


End file.
